


Fire

by Ari_7



Series: Drarryland 2019 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2nd Person, Angst, M/M, a whole lotta angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 05:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ari_7/pseuds/Ari_7
Summary: Prompt: You must write a tale of bad luck, loss of control, or the desperate clinging to control. Ruled by the god Jupiter, the highest leader of all, the card indicates the theme of power and transformation. The powers that be foresee many words, but less than 953.Beta'd byPixiePaint





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: You must write a tale of bad luck, loss of control, or the desperate clinging to control. Ruled by the god Jupiter, the highest leader of all, the card indicates the theme of power and transformation. The powers that be foresee many words, but less than 953.  
> Beta'd by [PixiePaint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixiePaint/profile)

You watch as Harry stumbles towards the store. You know what - or who, rather, is in the store. Everyone does. But his eyes are filled with a hunger… he’s starved, almost. You look down and notice a trail of red that leads to Harry. His leg looks like it was bitten. Despite this, he continues to make his way towards the door. His wand is out, and the fire in his eyes is growing by the second.

He is getting weaker with every step. You see him limping, bleeding out.  You can’t quite tell what he’s doing, or why he hasn’t paused to mend his leg. Or, for that matter, why no one else has sent for help. This is  _ Harry Potter _ . Saviour of the wizarding world. The boy who lived. The one who should have died. Twice. But he’s still here, and the world is grateful. So you start to wonder. What are  _ you _ doing? Why haven’t  _ you _ called for help? Oh yeah. That’s right. You’re a squib, living in wizarding London. You can’t use magic. Your phone won’t work here. You debate tapping someone or yelling for help. For anyone. And maybe he senses that because he looks at you in that moment. A hurricane of emotion sets over you and you realize why no one else has done something. They’re all petrified, and now you are too. 

You try to breathe, but you can’t. You try to blink, but you can’t. You try to move.

But you can’t.

And then Harry looks away, and you start to gasp for air. You’re closing your eyes. Just for a second- you need to process what you saw. So you take a minute. It’s… a long minute, you won’t lie to yourself. But you need the time, and so when you’re ready, you count to ten. 

And you open your eyes. You’re not where you were when you first closed your eyes, and you quickly realize that the terrifying force you had only caught a glimpse of is now inside of you. You look down - at least, you attempt to. But the fire in Harry Potter’s eyes is no longer a just fire. It’s a raging storm inside of you, and your disobedience to its orders is only adding gasoline. You try to fight it, but you’re making matters worse. But hey, you’ve been a squib all your life. It isn’t something you can change. Until now, at least. Because you are Harry Potter. And Harry Potter is not a squib. Harry Potter is a powerful wizard. In spite of this, it seems Harry Potter has lost all control of his magic. His soul rose from its dormant state and it knows what it wants. 

So you’re headed towards the store. You’re marching- no, you’re  _ charging _ in. You raise your wand, and all the knowledge of seven Hogwarts years floods into your grasp. You shout spells and charms at the customers, and people are fleeing. You know what they’re all thinking. You’re Harry Potter! How could you betray us? You know the consequences of your actions. You know how the press follows you, looking for any and every faulty move to plaster across the media. But right now, that doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You have a goal, a fire burning through your soul, and magic at your fingertips.

Fred and George, the two funniest men you know, are standing together in the back of their shop. One of them lets out a bit of nervous laughter. He starts talking to you, trying to calm you down. But you aren’t listening. You raise your wand. It’s pointed directly at George, the single-eared twin. 

The words form on your lips; the spell is on the tip of your tongue. That’s when Fred dives in front of his brother. You can’t stop now. Your soul thirsts for blood, and you know it’d be hopeless to stop it. 

“Avada Kedavra!” you shout. A green bolt of light flashes in front of you, and Suddenly, you’re back in control, and you realize what you’ve just done. Fred is lying on the floor, motionless. George is next to him. He’s sobbing, and when you try to approach, he yells. 

You don’t know what to do. What can you do? You, Harry Potter, have just betrayed the entire wizarding community. There’s nowhere you can go without someone knowing who you are and everything you’ve done. You start to run with tears pouring down your face, terrified of what you’ve just done, when you notice that someone’s shaking you.

“Harry. Harry!” a voice calls. And you’re suddenly pulled back into reality, and you remember. You are Harry Potter. The war has been over for ten years. You are safe at home, in your bed, with Draco Malfoy. Your husband. A salty tear runs down your cheek as the nightmare races back into your memory: being a squib, your soul taking over you, killing Fred. Dear Merlin,  _ you killed Fred. _ You sob once more as you retell the story to Draco. He’s holding you, despite your current state. In this moment, you know you’re loved, and you’re safe. Draco is comforting you. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “It never was. You did your best, but even the most powerful wizards can’t save everyone.”


End file.
